


Wait For Me (I'm Coming)

by DemigodNamedAthena



Series: Royal Logince AU [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Also yes it is a happy ending I promise, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, As always- No beta we die like men, Brotherly Analogical - Freeform, Fear of Death, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It's really heavy on the hurt but also heavy on the comfort so, Kidnapping, Kinda PTSD? I mean torture isn't exactly...great for mental health, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Character Death, Non (Super) Graphic Torture, This fic really is...something, Torture, Whipping, anxiety attack, but it's not too graphic, hoo boy, or nonbinary royalty in my case, royal au, this was supposed to be a one shot and it turned into This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 00:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemigodNamedAthena/pseuds/DemigodNamedAthena
Summary: Roman has enough on his plate, being the King-To-Be of the Kingdom of Allura. A rising revolution in the West, a rapidly emptying royal fund, an ex-general deadset on destroying his kingdom, and a dying father. He can barely keep his head above water as it is.And then Logan Clarke, the court astrologer, goes missing.





	1. Chapter One

Roman dropped the map he had been studying and pressed his fingers to his forehead with a groan. The letters and colors on the page were swimming before his eyes, and he pressed harder in an attempt to stave off the headache forming behind his eyes.

He looked up when he heard his tent flap swish open, announcing the arrival of a new person. Virgil was standing in the doorway one hand loosely positioned near his sword.

“Virgil,” Roman greeted.

Virgil relaxed after being acknowledged and entered the tent fully. 

“We combed the forest, no sign of anyone, sir.”

Virgil’s news wasn’t unexpected, but Roman’s heart ached anyway. He nodded and sighed tiredly.

“Thank you, captain. Get some rest, we’ll continue on in the morning.” He said, hoping his exhaustion wasn’t evident in his voice.

Virgil gave a short nod of affirmation before approaching the makeshift desk. Upon closer inspection, Virgil himself looked exhausted. Of course he was, Roman scolded himself. This ordeal had been draining on everyone involved, but Virgil was perhaps the most affected by the trauma of it all. Virgil leaned forward and squinted at the map that had been giving Roman a headache just moments before.

They had been combing the forests surrounding their kingdom for days, and every day that they came up without a lead added to the weight on Roman’s heart. Virgil knew how disheartened Roman was becoming and tried his best to keep the troops in line to ease some of his stress. He might’ve thought he was being subtle, but Roman saw it. He was filled with a sudden rush of affection for his best friend, and had to fight back tears that threatened to spill over.

He broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Patton returned about a half-hour ago. I believe he is waiting in his tent, if you’d like to see him.

Roman pretended not to notice the blush that graced Virgil’s cheekbones, and he chuckled at the soft punch to his shoulder from Virgil. But Virgil’s face quickly turned serious again. 

“Promise me you’ll get some rest, Ro. You won’t do anyone any good asleep at your desk, or sick from sleep deprivation.” Virgil’s voice was stern and reminded Roman of Patton. Perhaps the fatherly figure was rubbing off on him.

“I will, Virgil.” He said. Hoped his voice sounded reassuring.

Virgil nodded once and turned to leave. He hesitated with his hand on the flap and looked over his shoulder one last time.

“And Ro?” Roman glanced up at him. “We’re going to find him. We won’t stop until we bring Logan home.”

This time, Roman couldn’t stop the tears that welled in his eyes.

“I know, Virgil. I know.”

**~~~**

When Logan woke up, the first thing he was aware of was darkness. 

He was disoriented for a moment, wondering when it had gotten so dark in his room, before his memories flooded back to him. 

The blindfold, being grabbed, the needle in his neck-

He jerked and tried to move his arms, but they were securely fastened behind his back with rope. He could already feel the ache in his shoulders from the awkward position.

Unfortunately, his movement alerted whoever was in the room with him of his consciousness.

“Good, you’re awake,” He heard a voice growl. Logan tried to focus on where the voice was coming from, but it seemed to echo.

He was laying on a cold floor, and there was a blindfold over his eyes and a gag in his mouth. He tried to quelch the rising panic in his chest.

_ Deep breath, Logan. _

He heard footsteps approaching him and tensed up in response. There was a rough hand grabbing him suddenly and yanking him up by his hair, pulling him onto his knees. Logan fought the instinct to cry out at the pain, refusing to give them the satisfaction.

“Logan Clarke, the court astrologer. A pleasure to find myself in your presence.” A cold, metallic voice to Logan’s left drawled. He couldn’t help the shiver as ice slid down his spine and froze in his veins. There was something about that voice...something familiar…

Logan gasped.

“Yes, Clarke,” The voice chuckled darkly. “We’re going to have  _ such fun  _ together.”

**~~~**

Virgil stepped out into the night, letting Roman’s tent flap swish shut behind him. The evening air was cool and carried a faint hint of orange blossoms, Spring announcing herself sooner than usual.

(Logan’s favorite time of year, but Virgil tries not to dwell on it.)

He slowly makes his way through the hastily constructed camp and, after quickly pulling off his armor and depositing it at his tent, keeps walking towards his destination. Patton’s flap is open — of course it is — and he is bent over his sheath, working oil into the leather. He looks up when he hears Virgil approaching, and the smile that graces his face lifts Virgil’s exhaustion momentarily.

Patton’s lips are warm when he presses a gentle kiss against them and Virgil can’t help but smile.

“Hello beautiful,” Patton greets, and Virgil can feel his cheeks heating up for the second time that night.

“Hey Pat,” He murmurs back. He brings a hand up to touch Patton’s cheek and allows himself a moment to admire this man.

Their relationship had gotten off to a rocky start — Virgil thought Patton was in love with Duchess Emmaline, and Patton had taken Virgil’s standoffish behavior as distaste — but they had gotten there.

(Roman will forever take credit for how it happened, and Virgil would like nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off his best friend’s face whenever he sees the two together.)

Patton tugs on his arm and Virgil takes the hint, unbuckling his own sword, and sitting down next to him. He sat stiffly for a moment until Patton wrapped an arm around him and pulled him against his side. The warm weight of Patton’s arm coaxed Virgil into a relaxed slump against Patton.

“I’m worried, Pat.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Patton murmured into the top of Virgil’s head.

“I’m scared for Logan, and I’m worried for Roman.”

Virgil’s voice cracked, but Patton was kind enough not to comment on it.

“Logan’s strong, Virgil, and we  _ are going to find him. _ He’ll be home before you know it, and Roman isn’t going to let our astrologer out of his sight ever again.” Here he paused to hold Virgil a little tighter. “We’re going to be fine.”

Patton’s voice held no room for doubt. He spoke with such assurance that VIrgil couldn’t help but feel comforted. He snuggled a little deeper and let out a sigh. Patton was right.

He had to be.

**~~~**

Stupid.

Logan was so stupid. How had he not connected the information? Dietrich was the most obvious culprit behind his kidnapping. Logan's position wasn't hard to fill, but taking him away from Roman's court would undermine the stability of the entire court structure. 

Logan took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to calm his heartbeat as he heard the echoing thump of footsteps approaching his body. Rough hands pulled him up off the floor and dragged him across the cold stone to a hard chair. He was pushed down into the chair and tried not to wince when the position jostled his arms painfully. The blindfold that he was wearing was ripped off and he squinted at the dim light in the room, his eyes sensitive. 

When his vision cleared, he saw a large man standing in front of him with a wicked scowl. Logan tried to look unaffected, even as his heart jumped in his chest at the glint of metal on the man’s belt. A hand tangled in his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to make eye contact with the man.

“Listen here, Clarke. I know your type, I know who you think you are. You think you’re better than all of us with your star charts, and your prissy robes, and your stupid little glasses. But I can tell you that all scholars are men, and all men bleed.”

The flickering candlelight caught on the edge of his blade, and Logan let out a terror-filled breath.

“I think this will humble you a bit,  _ Master  _ Clarke.”

**~~~**

The cool Spring air brushed teasingly against Roman’s face as he moved through the forest, his horse moving at a brisk trot. He didn’t dare moving faster through the dark forest, where there were tripping hazards everywhere hidden in the twisted roots of the trees. 

His mind was momentarily drawn to a memory of another time he had been on horseback

_ Logan’s arms around his waist as they two of them galloped through open land, Logan’s breath warm against his neck, feeling Logan’s laughter where he was pressed up against him. The pretty blush on Logan’s cheeks when Roman bowed to him and asked him for a dance, the two of them twirling through high grass, carefree and happy. Logan’s laugh, clear and loud as he threw his head back in mirth. _

Roman shakes off the ghost of Logan’s arms around him and blinks away his tears. Losing himself in past memories won’t help him find Logan now. He raises a hand in signal to Virgil, and half the men separate from the group to turn left through the forest while Roman’s group moves forward, towards the mountains. 

He doesn’t want memories of love, he wants the real thing. 

And he’s going to find him.

**~~~**

Logan swims to consciousness and immediately wishes he hadn’t. He is made painfully aware of the aches in pains of his body, his left eye swollen shut and each breath brings a sharp pain in his side. He suspects a broken rib, and even if he can’t see them, he knows he’s covered in bruises. The metallic taste of blood is strong in his mouth.

Through the haze of pain, Logan has a faint sense of pride. He’s held up pretty well through everything, steadfastly remaining silent, and at times insolent.

(That had earned him the dull ache of pain on his thigh, where he can feel dried blood stuck to his skin.)

A part of him wonders why he holds out.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, time doesn't exist except in the spaces between visits from his captors and the blissful release from consciousness that comes after _.  _ The constant pain and isolation has made his brain fuzzy, and he often feels his coherency dripping away from him, like trying to hold water in cupped hands. It’s frightening, almost more-so than being held here by people who wish him harm.

In this moment, surrounded by darkness around and darkness within, he wants Roman more than ever. 

He has tried to keep the Prince as far away from his thoughts as possible, and though he tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to let anything slip to Dietrich or his cronies, it’s also an act of self-defense. If Logan lets his mind wander to soft touches and kind words, he doesn’t know if he will survive.

He is still trying to pull his disobedient mind away from thoughts of Roman when the thud of a door snaps him fully back into his situation. Logan swallows down the bitter taste of fear as his blindfold is pulled off, not even wincing as it catches on his hair and yanks it hard from the roots.

(Why they keep the blindfold on is a mystery to him. It’s not as if there’s any information to glean from the four dank walls of his cell. He thinks they’re playing a mind game with him, hoping the sensory deprivation might make him break sooner.

He’s afraid to admit that they might be right.)

The person who stands before him seems angry- angrier than he thinks he’s seen any of them before. The person opens their mouth as if to speak, but instead they just walk behind Logan and attaches a chain to the ones keep his wrists together. He’s yanked up to his feet and his shoulders scream at the movement. He’s prodded forward and he takes a moment as his vision blurs and he sways dangerously. He’s barely given a moment to recover before he’s shoved hard between his shoulder blades and he stumbles forward.

Logan is pushed through the door to his cell and down a winding passage way. It’s just as dark out here as it is in his cell, and momentarily Logan wonders how his guard even knows where they’re going. 

He’s steered through a doorway that opens into a larger room. There are chains hanging from the ceiling and the pit of dread in Logan’s stomach feels akin to how he imagines it would if the bottom of his stomach had suddenly fallen out. His feet freeze in their tracks without thought, and the person shoves him forward.

Logan needs to flee. He needs to run, he knows he does. This is his chance- might be the only one he has. But his brain, his  _ damned  _ brain, can’t grasp onto anything that’s not the ice cold fear in his veins. Besides, where would he go? He’s in no condition to run, and is surely outnumbered.

He’s still caught in the tornado of his thoughts when he’s dragged forward and his arms are pulled up, one wrist connected to the chain suspended from the ceiling. There’s a moment where his two wrists are separated for the first time since his arrival, and he knows he should struggle- rip his hand away, kick at the person, try to free his other wrist, and  _ run.  _

But he doesn’t do any of those things. Doesn’t even struggle, just lets himself be secured to the cold, unforgiving metal, even as he screams at himself to do something,  _ anything.  _

The person steps back and Logan has never felt more exposed despite being fully dressed. He hears footsteps behind him, but just drops his head and keeps his eyes shut. There’s two torches on the wall and even that sparse light his making his eyes ache. More footsteps, these coming closer. Logan doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch, but then there a sickening crack in the room that makes his hair stand on end. A chill passes through him and he lets out a pathetic sound.

“Please don’t,” He whispers, voice hoarse from disuse. 

There a dark chuckle and Logan hears the sound of the whip trailing through his torturer’s hand. 

“You know what to say to end it all, Clarke.”

Logan keeps his mouth resolutely shut even as a tremor wracks his body.

“Okay then, this’ll be more fun for me anyway.”

The pain that rips across Logan’s back tears an inhuman scream from his mouth and he swears he can taste blood. 

“Scream all you like, no one’s coming for you.”

For the first time in his life, Logan prays.

**~~~**

Roman’s chest tightens and he shifts, uneasy. He feels antsy and filled to the brim with bad energy. They had stopped for the night, despite Roman’s desire to push forward. Virgil had pulled him aside with a kind, but firm denial. 

“Roman,” he had started, voice low. “The men are exhausted, and so are you. We’ve lost the light- it’s time to stop for the night.”

Roman had pushed back the anger at the suggestion he stop- it had been  _ seventeen days _ , Logan was  _ nowhere near _ being found, he didn’t  _ deserve _ to rest while his beloved was out there, alone and in danger-

But he knew that Virgil meant well. (And Virgil was probably getting considerably more sleep than Roman, perhaps his ideas and thinking were more watertight than Roman’s own sleep deprived hypotheses.)

So he had agreed to stop for the night, but as he was untacking his horse he was gripped with the feeling that something was wrong. Or more wrong than it had been.

He had tried to shake it off as he went through the motions of setting up his tent and his pallet, but the feeling only intensified. Finally, he gives in and goes to Virgil’s tent, fully dressed and sword in hand.

“Virgil,” He whispers, russling the tent flap. After a moment, Virgil poked his head out, looking fully awake.

“Roman? What’s going on, why are you dressed?”

“Something’s wrong, Virgil. I know it is. I’m going to press forward and check in that pass that we skipped earlier.”

Virgil frowned and ducked past the flap to stand outside with Roman.

“Princey, you can’t be serious. That'd be the height of stupidity, it’s  _ dangerous,  _ I mean, where’s your self-preservation?” Virgil had that look in his eyes that he got when he was exasperated, or worried. (Virgil was versatile in that he was able to be pissed off at you and protective at the same time. It’s admirable when it’s not aimed at Roman.)

“Virgil…” Roman starts, his voice trailing off as tears sprang to his eyes. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s been too long. He’s so tired, and he is so,  _ so, _ scared. But he doesn’t know how to put his feelings into words. Instead, he lets tears drip down his face as he squares his shoulders and looks at Virgil. Virgil’s eyes have softened, and Roman knows that he knows.

“I’ll wake up my men and meet you there,” He says, giving Roman’s arm a squeeze before ducking back into his tent. Roman lets out a shaky breath and drags a hand through his hair. He owes Virgil at least a month off after all of this. (Patton too, of course.)

But first, they have to find Logan.

So Roman strides through tents towards where he knows his horse is and in minutes, he’s moving through the darkness of the forest with one person in mind.

**~~~**

Logan is jerked to awareness and he doesn’t even realize the muttering that he’s hearing is his own. 

_ “Please, God, someone-anyone, just make it stop.” _

A scream falls from his lips in a tired way, as if his body is trying to expel the pain vocally but is too tired to do it properly.

“Not quite ready to sing, little birdy?” The voice is cruel and mocking and Logan has never hated another human being more. “That’s ok, I’m a  _ very  _ patient person.”

Bile rises in Logan’s throat, burning his throat and he coughs, blood dribbling out. He pushes the weak and crumbling mental walls he’s built around his mind, steeling himself as best he can.

But then he hears the sickening sound of the leather whistling through the air as the person gives it a test swing; and Logan breaks. 

_ “Stop!” _

Time seems to freeze, and Logan can practically hear the malicious smile that spreads across his torturer’s face. Each breath hurts as Logan gasps and his chest heaves deeply, dread turning the air to lead.

“Do you have something you’d like to say, Clarke?”

_ Yes. Curse you, you bastard. Curse you and your family for generations to come. _

Logan licks his lips before speaking, the words spilling from him, desperate. Anything,  _ anything  _ to make it  _ stop.  _ “There’s discord, among the western noblemen. There’s been talk of a revolution, Roman’s been keeping it under wraps to keep support away from them.”

Fingers, wrapping in his hair tightly. “Keep talking.” Their breath is rancid where it washes across his face and Logan struggles not to gag.

“The King is old and growing ill, he’s not as healthy as we have people believe. The Prince may be rising to King sooner.” Fear clogs his throat as the fingers tighten infinitesimally in his hair, prompting him to speak further. 

“The royal coffers run low, food is scarce, and the Prince is attempting to restructure the court system which means it’s unstable at the moment. Suspicion is everywhere.” Logan is running out of words, for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to say. A loud crack rings through the room as their hand connects with Logan’s face.

“These are breadcrumbs, Clarke. You think this isn’t information we didn’t already know, or couldn’t glean ourselves? I should kill you now for your insolence.”

Fear is a heavy thing, dark. It sinks into your lungs, fills your veins and heart with black tar. It is visceral, and terrifying. If they’re lucky, most people go their entire life without feeling this type of fear. Logan has experienced this type of fear twice before in his life, first as a child when his home burned down around him and he got trapped in the wreckage, the smoke filling his lungs and settling in next to the fear. The second time was as a teenager, when Virgil was enlisted in the King’s Guard, and then disappeared for seven months. 

Logan Clarke did not believe he was afraid of dying. But in this moment, with the danger so near and terrifyingly real, he realizes he is.

Logan Clarke also did not believe he was a traitor.

But he finds that secrets spill from his lips without his intention, damn preservational instincts loosening his lips and baring secrets of the Kingdom of Allura to this person to share with whomever they desire. When the last of the words are wrung from him, he feels like a sponge that’s had all the water squeezed out of it. 

Silence rings through the room (blasted silence- Logan’s thinks he’s had enough of it to last a lifetime.)

(If a world of only silence existed for him, however, that meant he wouldn’t die at the hands of this madman, then he knows he would take it in a heartbeat.)

“Thank you, Clarke, I do believe Dietrich will find this most... _ enlightening _ .” 

Logan’s heart has migrated to his throat, and he has never felt more defeated. His eyes are steadfastly trained on the floor as the person speaks, a slight haze overtaking his mind.

“-I do believe it’ll just be better if I kill you now.”

Panic is fear, just a little to the left. Panic claws at Logan’s insides, a wild thing that is trying to free itself from his insides.

“No, wait,  _ wait!”  _ His voice does not sound his own and he thrashes in his bonds, twisting away from the person.

“Oh calm down, maybe it won’t even hurt. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never died. Think of it like a scientific adventure.”

The person tightens Logan’s chains, pulling his arms up and together and forcing him to look at them.

“I want you to look at me, and know that this is the last face you’ll see before you die.”

The person grips Logan’s jaw tight enough to bruise and brings his face right in front of them. They lick their lips and smile, wickedly, the panic has seized Logan’s chest and he wonders if dying will hurt when-

_ “Get your hands off him!”  _

Roman’s voice is loud and drenched in anger. The person lets go of Logan’s face and Logan falls, arms jerking against the chains. He drops his head down, too tired to hold it up. He wonders if he has, in fact, died, and his mind has offered up the voice of the one person he wants to see most in the world as some sort of penance for the suffering he’s endured in the last few days.

There’s noise, somewhere in front of him. Consciousness fades in and out, a haze. (He’s scared to look up, scared to lift his eyes and see blank space instead of Roman. So he lets his eyes slip shut and the sound fade away from him.)

But then.

Then gentle hands cup his face, the smell of orange and smoke fills his nostrils, and he presses into the familiar touch.

“My love? Logan, dearest, can you hear me?” 

Relief washes over Logan, so strong that he loses his breath and his eyes fill with tears, spilling down his face and over Roman’s hands. His touch is real, it must be. He could never imagine a touch this gentle, words so soft, not in a lifetime.

“Logan?” The gentle murmur again, a panicked undertone barely hidden in those two syllables.

Logan nods as best he can, sucking in a gasp. 

“ _ Oh,  _ dearest, I’m here. I’m here, love.” Roman’s hands are warm and he gently thumbs away Logan’s tears. Logan can feel his arms going numb and his shoulders are burning fiercely as he stands, suspended. He makes a sound that could be mistaken for a whimper by someone less proud than Logan as he tries to relieve the pressure on them. Roman must notice his squirming because he runs a soothing hand through his hair. 

“I’ll get you down Logan, I promise.” Roman steps away from his body, leaving Logan alone. The fear returns immediately and Logan’s eyes fly open, a strangled sound coming from his throat. His vision is fuzzy but he makes out the outline of Roman in front of him.

“Shh Logan, I’m right here, dearheart.” Roman’s touch is back, a grounding presence on his skin. “I’m going to try to get your wrists out of these shackles, ok?” Roman waits for his nod of affirmation before walking around Logan to get a better look at this shackles. There’s a sudden rain of curse words behind Logan as Roman lays eyes on his flayed back.

“Oh Logan…” Roman’s voice trails off into choked silence and his despair is palpable. Logan doesn’t know what he sees, but he knows it’s quite bad, if the pain is any indication. The pain on Logan’s back is like fire, he knows. He is pushing the pain into a box, under a table, in a dark corner of his mind, because he cannot miss this, this moment with Roman. Roman is water, and Logan has been stranded in the desert for days. Fingers wrap around his wrist and Logan focuses in on that sensation. There’s some clicking as muttering as Roman fiddles with the mechanism before he swears and steps away, fingers uncurling. Logan hears him shuffling around behind him, but can’t see anything.

He hears a click and the metal around his wrist loosens, Roman’s hand gently holding his as he eases it out of the shackle. He lets out a sympathetic hiss at the sight of Logan’s chafed skin. He repeats this with the other wrist and Logan collapses like a marionette with its strings cut. Roman swears and kneels in front of him, easing him up onto his heels.

Logan is able to look right into Roman’s eyes - _ oh,  _ how he’s missed those beautiful eyes- and the guilt comes rushing back. “R-ro,” He manages, and it feels like he’s been gargling glass. “I told them, I told them  _ so much. _ I’m so sorry, I didn’t-I couldn’t stop myself.” Roman’s eyes are concerned as he runs a gentle hand through Logan’s hair.

“Shh, love, it’s okay. Oh dearheart, I’m not mad or upset, you’ve been through so much, I don’t care about anything you might have told them.”

“But-”

“No, no ‘but’s. There’s nothing you could say that would make me angry at you, just more upset at those  _ bastards _ for harming you.”

Logan wants to object, to explain everything he said and why  _ really, Roman should be concerned,  _ but Roman is  _ here.  _ He’s here and running his fingers through his hair in that way he always did, and whatever has been keeping him going throughout all of this cuts out. He pitches forward into Roman’s arms, and his last thought before he falls unconscious is that the nightmare has finally ended.

**~~~**

Roman is momentarily filled with panic when Logan falls forward into his arms, but after a moment he realizes that he isn’t dead, just unconscious. He adjuts him so he’s laying in his lap without putting any pressure on his back and his heart squeezes at the sight of the bright red gashes. 

When he had stumbled across the crevice in the mountain hours earlier, he had almost continued past it. Only a faint glow that resembled torchlight had him investigating the cave, and deep inside he had found a group of men, all sitting around a fire, clearly intoxicated. Only the drunken exclamation of one of the men-  _ “That son of a bitch Clarke down there.”I-  _ had Roman pulling out his sword and cornering the men, demanding an explanation. It was only once Roman had entered the cave system that it occurred to him that he should have left one of the men alive to lead him through the twisting rock. So Roman had wandered through the cavern by himself, praying that he didn’t get lost as he searched for Logan.

He had been close to giving up when his eyes caught the flicker of a torch down a cave and he followed it right to a scene straight out of his nightmares.

Logan, strung up by his arms like an animal, fear written in every line of his body, and a knife in a person’s hand, aimed straight at his beloved’s throat-

_ “Get your hands off him!”  _

They drop Logan’s head and turn to Roman, confusion and anger on their face. Roman doesn’t even think, just jumps the person, sword out. They’re talented, and if this were any other situation Roman may have met his match. But he’s fueled by a blinding cocktail of rage and fear and  _ love,  _ and the person is a limp body on the floor in minutes. Roman stands over them for a moment and his pulled back to the present by a slight whimper behind him. He discards his sword with a clatter and rushes to Logan, kneeling before him and cupping his face.

“My love?” Roman keeps his voice soft and his touches softer as he talks to Logan and takes stock of his injuries. When he stands to free his wrists, Logan makes a noise in the back of his throat that Roman quickly decides he never wants to hear again. 

The anger washes over him again at the sight of Logan’s mangled back, and again when Logan’s eyes gaze into his own -The spark in his eyes has been snuffed out and his gaze is distant- and Logan  _ apologizes _ for giving up information to the people who tortured it out of him. 

Roman is still running his fingers through Logan’s hair now, and he wonders how he’ll get Logan out of here without hurting him more. His horse is tied outside the cave and he hopes that Virgil saw it and waited outside the cave for Roman’s return, but he doesn’t know how he could carry Logan out of here. 

With a whispered apology to Logan, he shifts him around and lifts him up, one arm under his knees and the other cradling Logan to him as best he can without touching his back. Logan doesn’t even stir. 

Satisfied that his grip is secure, Roman ducks out of the room, leaving behind his sword and a body. 

The journey out is difficult with the added weight of Logan in his arms (although it can barely be considered weight, Logan feels feather light in his arms and Roman can feel his ribs pressing prominently against his hand.) There’s a moment where Roman’s foot catches on a loose stone and he slips, almost falling backwards. He steadies at the last moment, but the experience has him holding Logan tighter and moving with more care. 

Finally, finally, he finds himself back in the large cave where he had encountered the men. The fire has burned down to embers, and Roman is glad that Logan isn’t awake to see the bodies strewn about. He pushes past the bodies and walks straight towards the small opening in the rock that he had entered earlier. 

The night is clear and the air tastes sweet after the dirty, stale air of the caves. Roman breathes deeply and sinks down against the rocky side of the mountain. He sets Logan securely against him and presses a kiss to his dirty hair, finally able to breathe again with Logan in his arms.


	2. Chapter Two

The rock wall is hard and digs into his spine, but Roman doesn’t shift away from it. His body is tired from the events of the day and he doesn’t want to risk disturbing Logan.

Logan, for his part, doesn’t look like he’s waking up anytime soon. His face is pallid and thin, his usually angular face even more pronounced, dark purple half moons under his eyes. He doesn’t even know where to start with his injuries. The back is the worst. He’ll have to have Patton look him over when he gets back. 

He’s still lost in tumultuous thoughts when he hears a shout from the trees. He looks up to see Virgil, surrounded by his men, sliding off his horse and  _ running  _ to them. Virgil is on his knees in front of them before Roman can blink, hands on Logan’s face and a hand lacing in his limp one and concern and fear and  _ relief  _ written all over his face.

“He’s alive, Virgil. Just unconscious.” Roman says, voice low and gentle. Tears spring to Virgil’s eyes and he nods, gaze never leaving Logan’s face. Roman feels as if he is intruding on a very personal moment, but he can’t extract himself from his position in any way, so he stays silent and allows Virgil to grip Logan’s hand tightly while he collects himself.

After a while, Virgil takes a deep breath and his tears slow, his expression steadying.

“How can I help?” All business, Roman knows Virgil is compartmentalizing his emotions. (He and Logan both do that. It’s one of the many traits the two brothers share. Roman believes it’s genetic, Patton blames their parents.) And that he’ll probably hide out in his tent once this all passes and fall apart in private.

(Patton will coincidentally be walking by his tent as the emotional storm subsides, and he’ll duck in to hold Virgil and keep him company. They make a wonderful team, those two.)

“I think we just need to get him back to camp, have Pat look over him, and we’ll go from there.” Virgil nods and stands up, prepared to help Roman stand and get Logan on the back of a horse. Roman sees the moment Virgil spots Logan’s back and the mix of emotions on his face, Horror, disgust, anger. Virgil’s face pales considerably but his hands are steady when he catches Logan’s shoulder while Roman stands.

Together, they make their way to Roman’s horse. They stand for a moment, contemplating, before Roman hands Virgil Logan’s limp body. He mounts with one smooth movement, patting Maximus’s neck in apology before leaning back as far as he can.

“Lay him across my lap, I’ll hold him until we get back to camp.”

Virgil’s face screws up momentarily, but he lifts Logan up to Roman and together they position him over Roman’s lap. Roman grips him tightly with his one hand and gathers the reins in the other.

As a group, they set off towards camp.

**~~~**

The dawn is just beginning to peak over the horizon when they get back to the little gathering of tents, and Patton is waiting for Roman when he arrives. He reaches up for Logan and helps get him down. Roman swings off Maximus and lands with an  _ oof,  _ the movement takes more energy than it should. He hands Maximus off to another man and follows Patton to his tent.

(Usually Roman always takes care of his own horse. He feels he owes it to them for carrying him safely to his destination and it’s the least he can do in return. Just this once, however, he allows himself the exception.)

Patton lays Logan out facedown on a pile of blankets and starts to work immediately, cutting off the tattered remains of Logan’s shirt and setting a bowl of hot water nearby. Patton doesn’t even hesitate at Logan’s wounds- thank God for level-headed Patton, he’s always been good in an emergency- and starts to gently peel the pieces of fabric stuck to the gashes off.

Roman’s hands shake with exhaustion but he kneels on Logan’s other side.

“How can I help?”

Patton fixes him with A Look and shakes his head.

“Roman, you’re clearly exhausted. There’s no way I’m letting you help me out right now. You need to rest. Heavens knows the last time you slept.” 

A retort is rising on the tip of Roman’s tongue but he’s quelled with another look from Patton.

“I can’t leave him, Patton. Not again.” Roman’s voice is small, and he realizes abruptly that tears are welling up in his eyes. 

Patton’s eyes are warm and he looks at Roman gently.

“I know, Roman. But I swear on my honor that nothing will happen to him under my care. If you stay in here, you’ll just be in my way. Go sleep, in your own tent, and once you’re rested you can come back and watch over him all you want. You’re of no use to me  _ or  _ Logan in this state.”

Roman deflates, closing his eyes. He still wants to argue, but the truth of Patton’s words are too heavy for him to ignore. He nods tiredly and stands up shakily. 

“You’ll come get me-?”

Patton cuts him off. “Yes, Roman, I will come get you if he wakes up before you do.”

Roman nods and ducks out of the tent flap into the fresh morning air. He allows himself a moment to breathe deeply. The dawn hasn’t looked this beautiful to him in about 18 days, not that he’s counting. With one last gaze at the tent that houses his beloved, he ducks into his tent and falls onto his pallet.

He’s asleep moments later.

**~~~**

When Roman wakes, the sun has already passed its peak and is slowly falling. The mid-afternoon heat has made the blankets on his pallet uncomfortable, and he kicks them off with a huff. Once he’s freed his legs from their fabric cage, he rushes out of his tent and towards Patton’s.

He pushes the flap open and sees Virgil and Patton bent over Logan, gently dabbing cotton balls at the edges of his wounds. He can’t decide if it’s better or worse with the dried blood cleaned up. 

Patton looks up at his entrance, and the lines on his face seem more pronounced than usual.

“How is he?” Roman asks, slightly breathless.

“He hasn’t woken up, if that’s what you mean. His injuries…” Patton trails off and Roman's throat goes dry. “He will be fine, physically. Given time and proper care, he will heal. He’ll always have scars, but rathered scarred and alive than...well. But Roman, I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s so disgustingly inhumane.” Fury is alight on Patton’s face, and there’s a tension in the room.

Roman knows what Patton is feeling, felt it himself and expressed it in the form of unmoving people left on the floor of that cave. He doesn’t know what to say, and just nods instead. 

“I know it is,” He manages to get out, before gently kneeling next to Virgil.

“Can I help?”

Virgil nods and hands him his cotton swab, leaning back on his heels. Virgil’s eyes are red and puffy and Roman wonders what’s going through his friend’s mind. He thinks they’re all feeling a little lost in the face of the events of the last three weeks. He’s just opening his mouth to speak when he feels Logan shift beneath him, and suddenly the room goes very still, and very quiet. 

“Logan? My dear, are you with us?” Roman is the first to break the silence, tentative.

“Roman?” Logan’s voice is raspy and faint, and Roman thinks he might cry at the sound of it.

“Yes. Love, it’s me. I’m here.”

Logan’s hand scrambled across the floor, the movement frantic. Roman grasped his hand in his and squeezed gently.

“I’m here.”

Logan turned his head towards the sound of Roman’s voice, his face dirty and drawn.

“We’re at camp, in the Alface forest. Virgil and Patton are here, so are most of the Guard.”

Logan’s gaze drifted past Roman and focused on Virgil, who was situated behind Roman. He went to move and immediately made a noise of pain, his eyes glossing over with tears.

“Virgil?” He asked, his voice small. Virgil looked surprised but quickly recovered, moving forward and kneeling next to Roman. Logan gave Roman’s hand a squeeze before letting go and reaching for Virgil. Virgil’s hand wrapped around his immediately, expression open and tearful. Virgil reached forward and pushed Logan’s hair away from his face, inspecting his brother’s face.

Logan stared at Virgil’s face intently, as if reassuring himself that he was here. His grip was surprisingly tight considering his fatigued state.

Virgil remembered the day he had come home and told Logan that he was going to be in the King’s Guard, and how scared Logan had been. He remembers how Logan’s hands shook but he hugged Virgil and told him he was proud of him. He remembers how Logan had hovered around him for the rest of the day, and when they two of them went to bed last night- two bodies on one small mattress, there wasn’t room for two in their house- Logan had pressed a little bit closer to him, how he had held his hand just like this.

So Virgil holds his hand now, knowing that he’s looking for security. He knows Logan, knows his brother likes to pretend he doesn’t have emotions, and he knows that right now he’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions that he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Logan?” Patton’s voice is a welcome distraction from his thoughts. “I’m going to dress and wrap these wounds. It will probably hurt, but I promise to be as gentle as possible.”

Patton would’ve made a good doctor, Virgil thinks. His voice is calm and steady as he pressed a hand to an uninjured section on Logan’s lower back. “Are you ready?”

Logan draws in a breath and nods but Virgil can see the tightening around his eyes. Virgil motions to Roman with his head, attempting to get his message across. Logan needed his family, and Roman was part of that. Fortunately, Roman understood the unspoken command.

He shuffled forward, towards Logan’s head. He settled himself down and then ran his fingers through Logan’s hair.

“Logan, put your head in my lap.” Logan seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Come on, I got you.” Roman coaxed, continuing to untangle Logan’s hair with his fingers. Finally, Logan gently lifted his head and allowed himself to be maneuvered into Roman’s lap, sighing softly when Roman resumed his gentle petting.

At Virgil’s look, Patton started dressing Logan’s wounds and bandaging them, mouth set firmly.

For the next hour, Virgil and Roman comforted Logan through it, shushing him gently and talking aimlessly about inane things in an attempt to fill the silence and give him a distraction. When Patton secured the last bandage, Roman had a slight damp spot on his pants from Logan’s quiet tears and Virgil’s hand aches from how hard Logan had squeezed it.

Roman realizes that Logan has fallen asleep, his breaths even and his grip on Virgil’s hand loose. He can’t help but be grateful. Roman hopes that he is free from pain in his sleep.

Patton packs away his supplies and sighs, exhaustion on his face. Roman absently wonders how much sleep he got last night, if any at all. Patton gives a tired smile to Roman. “You’re free to stay with him tonight, I’ll crash elsewhere.” Roman knows that ‘elsewhere’ means Virgil’s tent, and he nods in affirmation.

“Thank you, Patton.”    
  


Patton’s smile is soft and genuine when he says “Of course, Roman.” And then he ducks out of the tent.

Virgil is looking at Logan’s back, a mix of expressions on his face. Mostly he looks tired.

Roman nudges him gently to get his attention, and Virgil snaps back to himself.

“You can rest, Virgil. I know you didn’t sleep last night. I’ll keep an eye on him, promise.” Roman echoes Patton’s sentiment from last night, and a little bit of tension seems to ease out of Virgil’s stance.

“I know, it’s just…” He trails off, eyes clouding. 

“You can’t believe he’s here?” Roman finishes for him.

“Yeah.”

Quiet falls over the tent as Roman and Virgil both watch Logan breathe.

“I’ll be back later, Pat will need to change those bandages.” Virgil says, standing up slowly.

“Ok. I’ll come get you two if we need anything.”

That seems to settle Virgil and he nods before turning and exiting the tent, leaving Roman alone with Logan.

He notices how Logan trembles slightly in his sleep and his heart aches. He doesn’t know if it’s from cold or something else, but he pulls a blanket over him anyway. Logan seems to settle once he’s covered and Roman sighs to himself.

Minutes later, however, he starts twitching again, this time murmuring slightly in his sleep. It might seem benign to anyone else, but Roman has known Logan long enough to recognize a nightmare when it starts. Normally, he’d wake him and soothe him with kisses and a warm hug. Then the two of them would lay awake in each others arms, and talk until Logan drifted back off.

But he doesn’t want to wake Logan, knows he needs this rest, and instead he starts to sing.

_ Wait for me, I’m coming  _

_ Wait, I’m coming with you _

_ Wait for me, I’m coming too _

_ I’m coming too _

He keeps his voice low and leaves his hand on Logan’s head, hoping it offers some comfort.

_ I’m coming, wait for me _

_ I hear the walls repeating _

_ The falling of my feet  _

_ And it sounds like drumming _

_ And I am not alone _

Logan lets out a sigh and shifts slightly before stilling. His trembling ceases and so does his mumbling but Roman continues to sing until the song is finished, and then one more time. When he stops singing, he just looks down at Logan, at his love, and he thinks of the bandages under the blanket, and the wounds hidden under them. 

He thinks of the damage that he can’t see, but can feel in the way Logan’s body tenses slightly in his sleep, his distressed noises as he slept, reliving horrors. He thinks of Logan apologizing to him, voice catching on the words even as speaking pains him, and of the state that he has been living in for the past 18 days.

The longer Roman lingers on it, the more helpless he feels. He doesn’t know how to fix this, feels so utterly small and helpless in the face of this foe.

But for now, in this moment, he holds Logan. There’s not anything that he can fix in one night. But he can sing Logan’s fears away, and keep him warm. And maybe, Roman thinks, that’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> I'm so fond of this chapter I hope you guys are too like it's so soft-  
> Also double update! Whoooo! The song that Roman is singing to Logan is Wait For Me from Hadestown, which is a song that I literally adore and listened to on a loop while writing this fic. [Here's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaisszHQ7yg&list=RDZaisszHQ7yg&start_radio=1) a link to that song (please listen to it it's so good.)   
> Comments add ten years to my life span and kudos are pretty fantastic too!   
> I'm over on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/demigodnamedathena) and I regularly cry about Logan Sanders on main  
> Peace!  
> -Athena


	3. Chapter Three

The trip home takes three days. It's arduous and slow going, and Roman is happy that their group is so small. 

It’s just him, Logan, and Patton. They had decided to ride ahead by themselves, as they could move faster without the entire King’s guard accompanying them. Virgil has stayed to lead the rest of the soldiers, and Patton goes ahead with Logan and Roman. They stop every few hours for Patton to change Logan’s bandages, and they make their goal getting back to the castle as fast as possible.

Logan rides with Roman. He sits behind him and wraps his arms around his waist in a position reminiscent of many hours spent riding together.

There’s nothing romantic about this ride, however.

Logan’s pained breaths brush against Roman’s ear, and the tightening of his arms around his waist are ones of pain and necessity, not from trying to press closer to Roman. They ride until Logan’s barely suppressed gasps of pain become too frequent and Roman forces them to stop.

(Logan has barely spoken since Roman carried him out of the cave. His silence is almost more concerning than anything else. Roman tried to fill the silence at first, but now they just ride.)

They come out of the forest and Roman feels relief knowing that they’re close to the castle. Logan gives his waist a little squeeze, and Roman knows he feels it too. 

They don't stop, just ride as the ground evens out, castle growing on the horizon with each stride of the horses' hooves. 

Patton cues his horse into a gallop, gaining ground ahead of Roman and Logan. They hadn't had time to send a message ahead of them, choosing to leave immediately. Patton will alert the castle doctors that the Prince is returning with the court astrologer, and he is in need of medical attention.

Logan pressed forward and hooked his chin over Roman’s shoulder.

“We’re almost there, love. Patton’s going ahead to alert them.”

Logan nodded against his shoulder and Roman swallowed regret at not hearing his voice. He tightened his grip on his reins and set his mind to arriving as fast as they could.

**~~~**

When Roman made it to the gates, there was a group of people waiting for him. He slid off Maximus and turned to help Logan down. His lips were set tight with pain and he landed on the ground with a huff. As soon as Logan’s feet hit the ground, Patton was there with the palace doctor, Emile, at his side. They wrapped an arm around Logan and steered him towards the entrance, Patton and Emile already rapidly exchanging words.

Roman went to follow them but found himself blocked by a small group of people, all clamoring for his attention. Several members of the court, all asking questions about Logan, one or two of his advisors who had issues that  _ really required his immediate attention,  _ as well as several servants who he figured were just lingering for hints of gossip.

He was momentarily overwhelmed with the movement and chatter, but he gained his wits enough to get their attention. 

“Enough! Your questions will all have to wait, I have more important matters to deal with. Please return to your jobs, I will be available later. And someone please return my horse to the stables.”

With that he pushed through the small gathering and followed the steps he had seen Patton and Logan take. Once he was out of sight of everyone in the courtyard, he started running.

**~~~**

Logan tried not to wince as he was directed to Emile's quarters, the hands on his shoulders only heightening his pain. At some point, he looked over his shoulder and realized Roman was not with them. He tried to swallow the panic that rose in his chest at the revelation. It was irrational, nothing was wrong. Or perhaps that statement wasn’t entirely accurate, but nothing was wrong that could be changed by Roman’s absence or presence. 

So why was he having a hard time breathing?

He was distantly aware that Patton and Emile were talking to each other, and probably talking about him, but as they weren’t talking  _ to  _ him he just let the conversation fade into noise. They ushered him into a room and sat him down on the bed, hands settling on his shoulders. Logan resisted the urge to flinch at the touch and tried to focus on the rhythm of his breath. 

Patton moved out of his line of vision, stepping behind him, and his chest seized up. 

Patton wouldn’t hurt him, he knew. But he couldn’t see him anymore, he was no longer observable, and memories of being in another room with stone walls and a person at his back were spinning through his mind.

His heartbeat was loud in his ears. Logan’s chest felt tight and it felt like he couldn’t draw in any oxygen. He was distantly aware that the hands were no longer touching him and he could faintly hear what must be Patton- or perhaps Emile?- talking, but he couldn’t discern the words. His vision blurred slightly at the edges as his breathing wheezed.

But then someone was kneeling in front of him. Logan became aware that his hands were balled into fists when warm hands covered them and eased them open.

“Logan?” 

Roman’s voice was clear and cut through the haze in his mind. He was kneeling in front of Logan, warm eyes filled with concern, and the panic eased. 

“Roman,” He said, voice quiet and raspy.

“Yeah love, I’m here.” He started rubbing circles into Logan’s hands with his thumbs. “What happened? You weren’t with us for a minute there.”

With Roman here, the panic was already draining away, Logan focusing on the touch on his hands and the rise and fall of his breath.

“It was rather illogical, I couldn’t see Patton or Emile once they went behind me and I panicked, I suppose.” Saying it aloud only heightened the sense that Logan had overreacted, and he steadfastly stared at the ground. He heard a small noise from behind him but ignored it, unable to muster up the energy to care about what it could have been.

A gentle touch on his shoulder drew his attention back and then he heard Emile’s voice.

“I’m sorry that we upset you, Logan. However, it is important that I look at these injuries. I will speak to you the whole time so you are aware of what I am doing. Is that alright?”

Logan nodded and gripped Roman’s hand a little tighter.

“I’m going to start by removing the bandages.” Emile said. Logan stayed perfectly still while one by one, his wounds were uncovered. Emile didn’t react, simply asking Patton to bring his bag over.

“Patton did a good job of treating these initially,” Emile commented, rummaging in his bag. “You’re lucky, they’re clean. My biggest concern is infection, but we should be able to avoid that by keeping them covered.” Emile placed a gentle hand on Logan’s arm. “I’m going to clean these now with some alcohol, it’s going to hurt.”

Logan had always liked Emile; he was gentle and kind but wouldn’t sugar coat things, always getting straight to the point. He nodded to show that he had heard, and didn’t even flinch when the cold alcohol made contact with his wounds.

Once he was done, he asked Patton to re-bandage them. Then he started his examination of the rest of Logam, taking note of the bruises on his torso, the cuts on his chest and face, and the ugly bruise blooming across the left side of Logan’s face.

“Logan, could you remove your trousers for me?” Emile asked, tone light. Logan stood with an effort and started tugging on his pants. They were tattered and dirty, blood staining them in some places. Once he got them past his knees, he sat back down on the bed, exhausted from the small effort. Emile cleaned and bandaged the cut on his thigh but deemed that his legs were uninjured for the most part. 

Logan looked at his pants, pooled around his ankles, and realized that he didn't have the energy to pull them back up. 

Roman seemed to notice this, and he hooked his fingers around the band of the pants, pulling them back over his legs.

It was a small gesture, but it made Logan’s eyes water slightly. Roman’s attentiveness since he had found him made his heart ache and his chest feel heavy with an emotion that he used to fear. There had been a time, a time before Roman, before this gentle affection, that nothing had scared Logan more than being vulnerable. He would have never allowed himself to feel this feeling, to put a name to it so boldly.

Love. It should be terrifying.

But there was nothing scary about loving Roman.

He didn’t even notice that Emile was done until Roman squeezed his hand and drew his attention back to the present. 

“Are you up to walking back to my room, dearest?”

Logan stood up off the bed, and promptly felt the world blur as he stumbled forward. Roman caught him by his arms, avoiding his back, and setting him steady.

“Easy there. I got you, don’t worry. One step at a time, there we go.”

Roman kept one arm secured around Logan’s waist as they walked together out of the infirmary. He murmured encouragement to Logan the entire time, letting him lean most of his weight against Roman. 

When they finally made it to Roman’s room, Logan was drooping with exhaustion, muscles aching and wounds throbbing. He was compliant as Roman eased his pants off again and dressed him for bed, each touch soft and only making Logan want to sleep more. Once he was dressed, Roman quickly disrobed himself and helped Logan into bed, crawling in behind him.

Logan laid on his stomach to protect his back, but felt anxiety prickle at his neck when Roman laid down beside him. He felt...exposed. And a little cold. He couldn’t help that little whine that left him, and Roman immediately was running a gentle hand down his arm.

“Logan? What’s wrong?”

He wasn’t sure. He wanted Roman to hold him, to be enveloped in warmth and love and safety, but he couldn’t press against Roman like he normally did. And he didn’t know how to put it into words. He didn’t want to ask, just the idea of it had heat rise to his face.

“Just...cold. Is all.” He said, hoping that that explanation would suffice. Roman’s hand stopped moving on his arm and Logan held his breath. Then he felt Roman shift, moving down the bed, until he was laying flat.

“Come here,” He said, gesturing to his chest. Logan crawled up, settling his head on Roman’s chest and letting himself sink down into his body. The gentle beat of Roman’s heart against his ear was soothing, and Roman wrapped one arm around his lower back before tangling the other in his hair, running through the strands.

“Better?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Mhm. Perfect,” He responded, letting his eyes shut. Logan drifted to sleep, secure in the knowledge that for the first time in weeks, he was safe. He was home.

**~~~**

In the following weeks, more security was added to the castle. Guards were around every corner, and weak spots in the castle’s construction were shored up. The astrologer, hardly a public figure as it was, was barely seen. To an outsider, nothing of importance was different about the castle.

To Roman, lots of things were. 

He rarely left Logan’s side, refusing meetings and bringing his work into his personal quarters. Logan had tried to argue at first, but the relief in his eyes when he saw Roman was enough to steel Roman’s determination. He didn’t mind changing his routine, this small changes were nothing compared to what he would do to keep Logan happy, to keep him safe. Having Logan home made breathing easier, filled up the negative spaces where an extra body was meant to be.

_ Home. _ It was a word that has kept Roman warm while he searched for Logan, knowing that home was with him. The castle was just brick and mortar filled with irrelevant material things, it was a place meant to be filled with people, and feelings.

Home was Logan's laughter, the turn of his lips when he frowned at Roman with barely hidden affection in his eyes. 

Home was in sleepy kisses and sleep softened touches, the precious moments when the Dawn sneaked in through windows and bathed Logan's face in a golden light. 

Home was in the touch of hands, of gentle caress of face, of an extra cup of tea appearing on his desk while he labored over papers and requests.

Home was also in the empty space between them on the bed when they disagreed, in words that were too barbed or too honest. 

Home was in loving Logan, and choosing to come back to him. To cross the space between them on the bed, to apologise for words that were said in haste, in the band-aid smoothed over the wound on his heart.

It was nighttime, and the candles set around the table were burning Roman’s eyes. He frowned at the papers in front of him. The disturbance among the nobles in the West was only rising, citizens being alerted to the brewing trouble and growing antsy themselves. He looked up from the tables at a gentle knock against the doorframe, seeing Logan standing there, holding a candle of his own.

“Roman, it’s almost midnight. Come to bed, the papers can be dealt with in the morning.” He said, stepping forward so he was standing at the edge of the table.

“I know, Logan, but there’s just so much to be done.” He said, pressing his hands to his eyes.

“Nothing can be done tonight, my dear.” Logan said, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder. He blew out the candles around the table and reached for Roman’s hand. Roman looked up, about to protest, when he saw the dark circles on Logan’s face. It was clear that he hadn’t slept either, and was just as exhausted.

With a rush of guilt, Roman remembered that Logan hadn’t been able to sleep on his own since the cave. Roman’s habit of staying up till the early hours of the morning, only to collapse into bed and do it all again the next day was affecting him just as much. 

Logan pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and murmured against the top of his head, “Whatever you’re thinking, I want you to stop. Everything is okay. Whatever has happened, has happened, and it is in the past. Let’s go to bed, and tomorrow will be better.”

Roman ignored the tears pricking at the back of his eyes and stood, allowing Logan to lead him back to their room. He shrugged off his clothes and tumbled into bed, Logan setting his candle down on the bedside table and blowing it out, climbing in after Roman.

Roman wrapped his arms around Logan, pulling him in close.    
  
Logan’s body was warm and he sighed, relaxing against him.

It’s not going to be easy, he knows. The problems will not have magically resolved themselves in the morning- his father will still be sick, revolution will still be stirring, there will still be scars on Logan’s back.

But it will be easier with Logan at his side.

He presses a kiss into the soft brown hair amd whispers “I love you.” Before he allows his eyes to shut and drifts to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!  
> Listen, guys, this fic is the result of much late night rambling to my friends, crying, and pots of coffee. It's my child and I'm very emotional about it. There will be more to this verse! I don't know when but I promise it's coming, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested.  
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/demigodnamedathena)?  
> Much love!  
> -Athena

**Author's Note:**

> Whooooooooo!  
> I'm back with another AU, the idea for this fic hit me over the head with a baseball bat (or a morning star), and I just had to write it.  
> I know I was horribly mean to Logan in this, but I promise he's going to get all the love and comfort in the next chapter.  
> Please leave me a comment? I'd love to know what you think. Next chapter will be up tomorrow, in the meantime come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/demigodnamedathena)  
> Peace!  
> -Athena


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